Read Online Eight Days a Week by Amber L. Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

the opportunity to fill Xander in on the SexLympics that had been performed the previous night.  
    He shook his head as he wiped down the bar. “Just be gentle with her.”
    “Nah, she likes it a little rough,” I said and took a swig of my beer.
    He stilled and leveled a glare on me. “I’m serious. She doesn’t need somebody dicking around with her just to be a prick. Especially someone who’s only working for her to get his inheritance. She’s better than that. I feel bad about helping you do this, just so you know. If you’d told me who she was, I wouldn’t have.”  
    “Because she’s Cece’s boss? Why the hell do you even care? It’s not like you know her.”
    He turned away and went to take another order.
    DJ Jimmy spoke into the microphone to introduce a solo act, and Ian emerged with his old, beat-up guitar. He smiled, adjusted the mic stand, and then began playing the same song from last night. Gwen wrapped her hand around Tess’ arm and squeezed.  
    Tess turned to Gwen and mouthed, “ Yes .”
    At least it wasn’t Gwen falling all over him.
    DJ Jimmy sauntered over and slipped in between the girls, resting one hand on Cece’s waist and the other around Gwen’s.
    He leaned close, talking low enough for just the four of them to hear, and I was itching to punch his mouth. My hat was making my head sweat from the amount of heat escaping my scalp. The beers I’d just thrown down didn’t help either.
    Gwen cut a sly look in my direction and quirked an eyebrow. I shrugged and looked away, pretending to be absorbed in Ian’s last few chords onstage.  
    That seemed to be Jimmy’s cue, and he slipped something small and white to Gwen before he jogged back up to take the microphone. His number. She shoved it into her pocket.
    What the hell?
    I was pretty sure I could get some numbers to piss her off if I needed to. I just didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t interested in competing with a ponytailed DJ in tight black jeans and a black T-shirt, like that shit was cool or something. He looked like a roadie.
    Jimmy started his next set and waved to Cece, Gwen, and Tess, a smarmy smile on his face while he announced that the next song was for his “girls.”  
    Cece grabbed Gwen and Tess and pulled them onto the stage to dance. All the men in the place seemed to have tunnel vision as they bounced and pressed up against each other. I was going have to knock some teeth in.
    I fought an overpowering urge to grab Gwen and Cece and swing them over my shoulders, kicking balls and asses as I dragged them from the building. That was my sister, for God’s sake.
    Ian shuffled over to me, a huge grin spread across his face. “I heard I’m being set up with the friend.”
    My rage was making me see red edges in my line of vision. I’d finished my third beer and was getting a little pissed.
    Scratch that. Livid.
    One of Xander’s waiters shimmied his way up on stage with the girls, and he wrapped his fingers across their throats and angled their heads back to deposit a melon ball shot concoction into their mouths from a strainer while they danced. Gwen choked a little, and the guy got clumsy and spilled the majority of the drink on her shirt.
    Her nipples shot out, tenting the fabric of her blouse, and she laughed.
    I found no humor in it whatsoever.
    The song came to an end, and I glared with narrowed eyes as the girls climbed down and returned to the bar.
    “I’m so sticky,” Gwen said into my ear then laughed.
    I kept my eyes straight forward on the stage.
    She snuggled in against my neck. “What? Why are you grumpy all of a sudden?”
    I turned to her, all humor gone from my face. “I’m just not interested in watching you make a fool of yourself.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You’re a mom. Maybe you should act like one.”
    Her face turned crimson, and she held her breath before her hand flew out and slapped me across the face.
    I turned back to look at her, rubbing my jaw.  
    “Don’t act like you know